A Heart of Ice

by Phoenix Briar

  “Curious,” he says, scratching his chin in an odd little manner, and I smile faintly.

  “Ack! Thar ye be!” Heather calls to us as we pass through a gate and into another section of town. This one is slightly different than the upper district. The buildings are smaller and closer together, made of less expensive material. The cobblestone street is cracked and more worn, and the streets are lined with carts of various kinds, cluttered with people. There are also signs hanging from the buildings, some with pictures and others with words. Tailor. Blacksmith. Anne’s Bakery. Renald’s Herbs. Apothecary. Madam Christine’s.

  Heather approaches and clasps me by the arms with an eager grin. “Good! Good!” she says with a grin and a nod. “Nay trouble, than?”

  “None,” Ckai’ten says, inclining his head to her.

  She nods again and then grins a smile which, despite the missing and crooked teeth, is pleasant. “Ack, well. Come ‘ere. There’s summon I want ya ta meet.”

  She takes my gloved hand and pulls me along, and I laugh, stumbling after her. The cold is bitter and unpleasant, but I think that I might enjoy this evening. I can hear music lower in the town, and it sounds so strange. I am not familiar with the instruments, and I would like to go and see. All thoughts of music and cold leave me at once, however, when I see the creature before me. He is not like I remember him, standing up straight with his hands in his pockets. He’s dressed for the cold, although not so much as I, wearing a long-sleeved wool shirt, a leather jerkin, slacks, boots, and a coat. He’s grinning at some girl beside him who is holding a little baby in her arms, and then he turns and grins at Heather’s beckon. His smile falls when his eyes land on me.

  “Tam!” Heather calls and stops before him. She calls to me, “Come ‘ere, lass,” pulling me forward. “He’s been wantin’ ta meet ya for a while.”

  I stand before Tam without words. He is young, probably only just having reached his prime or perhaps a year from it yet. His sandy-blond hair is curly and hangs around his face like a mop, his brown eyes murky and shy. His stance turns awkward and he shakes just a bit, looking at me. He’s taller than I remember. Although I remember standing and towering over him and his two dead companions the day I killed Mit’an’av. “H-Hallo, Lady Sc-carlet,” he greets, and my head tips slightly to the side, watching him.

  I have no knowledge of normal social protocol in this situation. Am I supposed to smile? “Hello, Tam.”

  He gives a little start. “You ramembar me?”

  Now I do smile, only just. “Indeed,” I say, inclining my head. “You are the only one I have let live.”

  He pales and then blushes and rubs the back of his neck. The boy smiles a bit and says, “Ah…Ah’v always wondered why ya did…I still ha nightmares…”

  I cringe a bit and sigh. “I do not know the answer,” I tell him. “But…the nightmares are another matter.”

  He looks at me curiously. “You ha nightmares too?”

  I smile bitterly, sadly. “Indeed. Every night. Some nights I wake burning up and screaming, black scorch marks on the ceiling and my blankets singed.”

  “Ack,” Heather bemoans, “Ah kep wondrin how tha was happnin.”

  Tam smiles a bit and says, “Ah see…do you…know how ta make tham betta?”

  I consider him and reply, “Perhaps. You are welcome to stop by my chambers before you retire. I will see if I cannot help with them. I still have them but…not nearly as badly as I once did. I’ve learned how to fight them, how to control them.”

  He smiles at me and nods, clearly hopeful for the prospect of a good night’s sleep, and I can certainly understand that. But then, his smile falls and he studies me. “Ya dinna look well, miss. Ya looked betta when I saw ya at tha wasteland.”

  “Naked?” I ask, and the boy nearly chokes, giving such a start and turning a bright shade of red. Heather and Ckai’ten both share a look of confusion and interest as Tam struggles to remember enough words to insist that was not his intention. Looking to Ckai’ten and Heather, I explain, “When we first met, I came out of a Shift and was naked and covered in blood.”

  Tam coughs a bit and says, “Ah-ah-ah meant th-that ya loss somma ya color.” Heather looks from him to me, trying to figure out what a healthy Inferno would look like. He nods to his mother and says, “Har skin was more like…gold and red…it’s still darker than ars nao but…it’s gray compared ta what it once was…and her face looks…thin.”

  I grimace and say, “I hadn’t realized you’d been studying me.”

  He turns another shade of red and stammers, “Ah-ah was tryin ta keep ma eyes on yar face…” We all laugh then at his expense, and Heather takes his arm, patting it sweetly and grinning at me.

  “Ack, well, less head down ta the festival.” We all agree, and Ckai’ten puts a warm hand at my back to steady and guide me as we head down into the more crowded part of town. Somehow, despite being packed into such a small space, I manage to avoid touching anyone. They somehow manage to steer clear of me as if sensing my heat, my origins. Heather takes me to a stall of sweets and asks me to pick one.

  “Good evening,” I greet the shop keeper and incline my head despite his scowl, as though he smells something rank. I ignore the look and browse the treats, finding a red one with white sprinkled on the top. “Is that…snow?”

  Heather laughs and says, “Nay, lass! Aha! That’s sugar!”

  I frown at her, considering the treat. “In Inferno, the sugar is brown and is larger crystals. This looks like… powder.”

  Heather laughs and decides to purchase some for me. The man gives her a price, however, and Heather gets into a huff. I’ve no idea what things are supposed to cost in Crystalice, especially considering that Cerulean has their own currency, but apparently, the price is steep for a pair of treats, and Heather has no problem taking the man to task publicly, claiming thievery. People don’t usually shout and carry on that way in Crystalice, and people begin to stare. Men catch sight of me and move in front of their wives and children. Women tuck their babies out of sight and move quickly along. A few locals step forward to determine the source of the problem, but their eyes are on me.

  I take a step back, and Ckai’ten puts an arm around me. “Perhaps it would be wise if we relocated until Heather resolves this matter,” he says, his head dipping low to my ear. I nod my head and let him lead me away. With a heavy sigh, we move away from the stall and down a bit aways.

  “What was the matter?” I ask.

  Ckai’ten shakes his head and replies, “He won’t refuse business but he was trying to charge Heather almost threefold what those things were worth.”

  “Because of me.” It is not a question, and Ckai’ten only sighs. “Ckai’ten, perhaps I—ah!”

  “Scarlet!”

  All at once, my face is burning in ways I have never known. It takes a moment of gasping past the pain and rubbing at my face, trying to get rid of the burning, wet substance to realize that someone had thrown a ball of snow at my face. The ice is much more painful to my kind than it would be to a Flora. The right side of my face is a mixture of red and purple, minor burns, and although it will fade within a day or two, it hurts like hell. I lean over, protecting my face with a hand without touching the burn.

  “Scarlet!” Ckai’ten calls again, kneeling near me and pulling back my hood. “Let me see…” I move my hand away, and he hisses at the sight of the injury. Falling snow would not have bothered me so much. But whoever had thrown that ball had packed it hard with pieces of ice as well. It had scrapped my skin as much as it had burned it with cold.

  “It’s fine…” I whisper. I had not realized snow would hurt me so badly in this weakened state. Usually I am much hotter and it would not have burned so badly. If I had realized, I would have stayed inside.

  Ckai’ten grunts as a thud hits his back, and he stands to his full height, looking ready for murder. “Stay right here, Scarlet,” he says, and I look up to see him head towards a group of grinning, cruel-looking men
who probably have had too much to drink. There’s four of them, but if that number bothers Ckai’ten, he doesn’t show it.

  “Scarlet!” Tam calls for me, and I turn as he reaches me, and he swears. “Miss Scarlet, wha ‘appened?” He reaches for my face and then thinks better of touching the wound and instead takes my arm, looking past me to Ckai’ten. “Common, miss. Less get ya back inside.”

  “But Ckai’ten…”

  Tam flashes a boyish grin at me and tugs me towards the castle once more. “Ckai’ten is moar than enou’ far those drunk bastards. Dinna warry bout ‘im.”

  He herds me along, an arm around my back as I pull my hood over my face once more to try and protect it from the cold air. “I…I am sorry…this is my fault.”

  He smiles and shakes his head. “Ya didn’ throw tha snowball, miss. T’ain’t yar fault.” He stops suddenly, and I look up from my shelter to see three more men standing by with dirks and knives. He tenses, and his arm tightens. “Wan I say, miss, ya head right and run.”

  I shake my head. “No. I can fight.”

  He scoffs and laughs a bit. “No offense, miss. But ah’s seen ya fight, and ya were in lots betta shape than. Ya jus gonna get yarself kilt.” He smiles at me. “Thay’ll na kill me. But thay’ll kill ya sure, miss. Please go.”

  I grind my teeth, looking as the men head our way. The villagers seem to get some idea of what’s happening and move away, towards the buildings, moving down the street. They talk, looking nervous, looking at me and at the men, trying to decide what’s happening and what they think of the situation. Suddenly, the men charge, and Tam shoves me to the right. “Go!”

  I hesitate and then take off running. I hate running. It’s against everything I was trained to do. But I cannot help them in the state I’m in. If I find some of the guard, they can help. I run as fast as my legs can carry me, thinking of the Crystalice men with pale hair and frozen eyes. My heart hammers in my chest. Ckai’ten may be able to take four grown men, but Tam is only a boy.

  Suddenly, something slams into my back, and the breath is forced from my lungs as I hit the ground. My head hits stone, and I am forced over onto my back. My blood is hot. I can feel it sliding and cooling down my face, sizzling against the cold. My vision spins, but I see a man with blue hair and violet eyes. “Filthy La’Heitan!” he snarls at me, and cold hands go around my throat.

  I gasp in a breath, terrified of losing air. I struggle and get a knee between his legs. He grunts and loosens his hold, but not enough to get away, and I gasp in another breath. He knocks me back down, and I wonder what people in the street must be doing. Are they standing there watching? Staring as this man tries to choke me? “We are the White Fang!” He screams in my face as I claw at his hands. My vision is already darkening. “We will purge this world of your filthy race! We will protect the crown of Cerulean!”

  I am going to die. I can’t breathe. His hands are so cold. They burn my skin. I can feel the cold seeping through my clothes, burning my back. My throat is closed. My eyes are open, but everything is so dark. I’m falling. As if the ground beneath me splits open…I’m falling down…into the darkness…the cold…I am going…to die…

  Ga…briel…

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Gabriel

  A cold bath and iced liquor do little to ease my mind. From my chair, I look out at my city, blanketed in white. Blue-orbed lanterns are hung through the streets, and their glow is ethereal upon the place. I wish to go, but I will not. Any taste I had for company and revelry is dead within me now. It is foolish. I am sulking like a child, and I know it well. How is it that I allow the little vixen to goad me so? I know better than to give her that much power. And yet, somehow…I still do.

  Sighing, I lean my chilled glass against my brow and relish in the chill of it, closing my eyes. Why does she affect me? She is dangerous. I know that. I have more than once suspected her of seducing me merely to kill me, and in fact, she has at least once. I suspect it even now. Hell, I practically expect it from her. And yet there is such a brazen sincerity and honesty in everything she does. Every look, every sigh. The way she moves, the words that fall from her lips. She may think on them, at least some of the time, but she does not censor them. They are open and straightforward. If she does not wish to answer me, she merely says so. She does not lie. It never occurred to me how much of my world is well-placed lies. This is why I have no taste for politics.

  Another sigh, and I sip my drink. Perhaps…that is what I find so drawing…that freedom…even as my prisoner, she somehow seems more free in this place than even I am. Is it my responsibility that chains me? I have always thought so and always accepted that…but I am beginning to wonder if that, indeed, is what binds me so tightly.

  I finish off the glass and set it down before a pounding on my door jolts me like a strike of white-hot lightning through my blood. I fly to my feet as a guard on the other side of my doors calls my name. Going to it, I wrench it open, and he straightens quickly into a salute.

  “My lord!” he cries. “There was an incident. In the city. The Inferno and her troupe were attacked.”

  Cara.

  “Where is she?” I push past him and start down the hall when I see a flash of black and red being carried from down the hall. “Cara!” I quickly close the distance between myself and the guard, grabbing her face, turning it from side to side. She has blood on one side of her head, and there is blood on her hands, skin under her nails. One side of her face is badly burned and swollen, and I cannot hear her breathing. “Is she alive?”

  “Yes,” the guard says. “We brought her back under Ckai’ten’s orders. He’s in pursuit of the attackers. Heather is on her way.”

  “Set her in my room.” I clap his shoulder and move past him. “Go!” I do not turn back to see if he has done as I bid. Instead, I race down the stairs, calling for a servant to grab my sword, but Ckai’ten heads me off before I even leave the castle. He’s a bit torn up, a few cuts and scrapes, but otherwise unharmed. “Ckai’ten. Report.”

  Huffing his breath, he says, “Got away, your highness. I was fighting off the lot of ‘em when one of the bastards bashed my head and they took off. I went after Scarlet. Heather’s son is in pretty bad shape too.”

  “Any trace of them?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “None. I’ll send men out to look for them but…I doubt we’ll find anything.” He gestures behind me. “Lady Scarlet is unconscious, but she might know who they are. They didn’t look military to me, but I didn’t get a chance to ask her.”

  Sighing, I run a hand through my hair and take a few minutes just to breathe, closing my eyes and feeling my world crash around me. An attack? In the city? On the night of a festival? Have things really become so dire here?

  “Get your hands off of me!” Cara’s voice screams in the distance, and I look up to see Ckai’ten’s concern. A slew of swearing and shouts from guards get my feet moving, and I start running, hurrying back up the stairs to the fifth floor where my little spitfire is staring down five guards with fire in both hands and a tattered dress.

  “Cara!” I call, pushing past the guards. Her eyes lock on me, and she bares her teeth. “Cara…peace, Inferno.” I hold out my hands. “You’re safe. You were brought back to the castle…you’re alright.”

  She looks at me uneasily, but the fire in her hands dies, and she sways on her feet. I move towards her and set her steady, supporting her. “Come on…you need to rest. Come and sit.” Turning her, I lead her inside and glance back to the guards, saying, “Four men posted here. No one gets in without my explicit permission.” With their acknowledgement, I take Cara inside.

  Cara stumbles alongside me into the room, sometimes nearly collapsing. I get her to the couch and she flops down on it, laying back with a heavy sigh. She puts a hand to her head and opens her eyes wide, staring at the ceiling. She’s trying not to faint. I can tell by the way she opens her eyes overwide and how she focuses on the ceiling intently, her breathing ragg
ed. “Cara…” She looks to me, her eyes holding fear and bewilderment. I honestly have no idea how she is still conscious. She doesn’t look like she’s lost much blood other than a cut to her brow, but the burn on her face is awful, and her skin is ashen. “I…”

  There is a knock at the door, and I swear and turn from her, going to the door. “Sir. Heather has just entered the castle and has requested to tend the Inferno.”

  I nod. “Give Heather whatever she orders.”

  “Sir.”

  I shut the door, moving back over to the couch. She’s asleep. With a sigh, I smile faintly, but my smile is uneasy and tense. I go to her and put my hand to her throat, checking for a pulse. Her skin is only slightly warm to my touch. My throat tightens. She was placed into my care. I was responsible for this. Why does this keep happening? Why? Who would dare to attack my charge in my own city? Who?

  The doors open, I am assuming by Heather’s order, and two servants come in with logs. They remove the decorative pieces from my fireplace and fill it with wood, lighting it and getting it hot as others come and dump out the water from my bath, dragging the tub before the fire and filling it with boiling water. Another maid drops a charm in the water to keep it hot. As they move busily about their tasks, I stand near to Cara. My own people did this. Attacked her. Attacked a royal guard. Can I even trust those in my own castle?

  They do not speak to me, and it is just as well. As they filter out, Heather comes in, panting a bit. “‘Scuse ma tardiness, highness. Ma bae was awful bad off. How’s Scarlet?”